I went camping over the weekend of the 24th with some of my favorite people. We stayed in a campground located in Huntington canyon aka Manti-LaSal mountain range. (Note: this area is known for its dense population of black bears) It was gorgeous! I cannot believe this was my first ever experience in this area. I have totally missed out in the past.
The first night there, as we were wide awake in the tent pretending to sleep like normal people (note: all members in that particular tent work graveyards at the hospital and therefore sleep during the day), we heard a sound that could only be described as a growling roar. The conversation that followed went something like this. "Do you guys hear that?" I ask in a hushed whisper. "Yeah what is it?" they whisper back. "I don't know...you don't think it sounds like a bear do you?" I reply. "No, but what could it be?" they ask back. "Well, if it’s not a bear then it could only be one thing....it’s a mountain lion." I gravely respond. (Note: this conversation is fact and quoted to the best of my ability. We never actually saw the animal but did get verification the next morning regarding the likelihood of mountain lions) So naturally, the next morning all the members of our camping party were having a bit of a fit at the idea of large and aggressive wild animals. (Note: present members were: one high anxiety mother whom I love with all my heart, one well camp-trained father, two Seattle city-slickers, one adventurous backpacker, and me the calm sane voice amongst the chaos.) I, being a kind and concerned friend, go over the basics of outdoor safety and reminded them in a soothing voice that the only animal that actually hunts down humans for food is a polar bear. Since we are not camping in the Arctic Circle we can consider ourselves safe so long as we remember we are guests in their home. As you can guess, my mother freaked out and wanted to arm all of us with police standard flash lights that we could use as weapons....just in case we got mugged by a ferocious wild animal. Ah, I truly forgot how much I love camping.
On the Saturday of our trip we all decided to go on, dum dum dum, the Hike of Death! (Note: my parents had already headed home in order to see the Osmond’s perform with the MoTab and one Seattle city-slicker opted out) So the three of us pack our camelbacks and backpacks with water and necessary sustenance and make plans to complete the 9.5 mile hike. The first 2.5ish miles of the hike were straight up the mountain. The plan was to get to the ridge and cross a pack trail and then head down a canyon 4.5miles to our parked truck. Not too bad, right? Well, we were over halfway to the ridge when we saw our first sign of weather difficulties; hail. (Note: we had already been hiking for about and hour and a half due to the constant need to stop and regain lung control) We hiked through the hail, which eventually stopped, assuming it would blow over. By the time we were to the ridge it had begun to rain very hard and coverage was becoming scant. (Note: at this point the backpacker was kind enough to remind us that mountain lions enjoy hiding in the thick brush) Since it was raining pretty good and had not started showing signs of lightning we took a rest under a large pine tree and regained some energy. (Note: energy source of choice was sour patch kids) We noticed that even if the rain stopped where we were currently sitting, the clouds were still moving towards the canyon we would be hiking through. Then the inevitable happened; lightning. We knew we only had one option and that was to head back down the way we came. The thought of 2hrs of hard work going down the drain was heartbreaking but it was countered with the thought of being fried by a lightning bolt. We ran! (Note: as mentioned previously the coverage was scant and the only lightning safety any of us could remember was to be the shortest object around.) The biggest problem was the 3/4 mile of switch-backs in a field of flowers on the side of the mountain. I was in front and set the pace. In what seemed like no time with what seemed like no breathing difficulties we made it back down the mountain. (Note: it took us approximately 30 min to get down that mountain) After arriving safely at the bottom we took inventory of ourselves. We were soaked from head to toe and covered in an unusual amount of mud. (Note: mud was due to all the mud puddles we ran through and the several falls we took while running through them) Since we were planning on coming out way down the mountain we had to trek another 1.5 miles through the downpour to our camp site. We arrived to find all our chairs and wood wet, my knee bleeding a smidge and the backpackers arms breaking out in hives. (Note: we had not noticed the bleeding knee due to mud coverage and the hives were a surprise from a random plant) We ended up driving into town soaking wet and sore to get some Benadryl and dry wood. The rest was a bit of a blur. The backpacker was drugged on my command and shortly passed out. I then cleaned off the mud and stripped off my wet cloths so I could take a nap. For the next 2.5 hours the world could have ended and neither of us would have known. When I woke up I could barely move and that feeling stayed with all of us for several days. (Note: being that we were all too cold, drugged or tired none of us found it necessary to stretch after our marathon hike resulting in a severe stiffening of the muscles and joints) Even though it has been hard to walk, climb stairs and sit we feel that it was worth it for having survived, dum dum dum, the Hike of Death!
The first night there, as we were wide awake in the tent pretending to sleep like normal people (note: all members in that particular tent work graveyards at the hospital and therefore sleep during the day), we heard a sound that could only be described as a growling roar. The conversation that followed went something like this. "Do you guys hear that?" I ask in a hushed whisper. "Yeah what is it?" they whisper back. "I don't know...you don't think it sounds like a bear do you?" I reply. "No, but what could it be?" they ask back. "Well, if it’s not a bear then it could only be one thing....it’s a mountain lion." I gravely respond. (Note: this conversation is fact and quoted to the best of my ability. We never actually saw the animal but did get verification the next morning regarding the likelihood of mountain lions) So naturally, the next morning all the members of our camping party were having a bit of a fit at the idea of large and aggressive wild animals. (Note: present members were: one high anxiety mother whom I love with all my heart, one well camp-trained father, two Seattle city-slickers, one adventurous backpacker, and me the calm sane voice amongst the chaos.) I, being a kind and concerned friend, go over the basics of outdoor safety and reminded them in a soothing voice that the only animal that actually hunts down humans for food is a polar bear. Since we are not camping in the Arctic Circle we can consider ourselves safe so long as we remember we are guests in their home. As you can guess, my mother freaked out and wanted to arm all of us with police standard flash lights that we could use as weapons....just in case we got mugged by a ferocious wild animal. Ah, I truly forgot how much I love camping.
On the Saturday of our trip we all decided to go on, dum dum dum, the Hike of Death! (Note: my parents had already headed home in order to see the Osmond’s perform with the MoTab and one Seattle city-slicker opted out) So the three of us pack our camelbacks and backpacks with water and necessary sustenance and make plans to complete the 9.5 mile hike. The first 2.5ish miles of the hike were straight up the mountain. The plan was to get to the ridge and cross a pack trail and then head down a canyon 4.5miles to our parked truck. Not too bad, right? Well, we were over halfway to the ridge when we saw our first sign of weather difficulties; hail. (Note: we had already been hiking for about and hour and a half due to the constant need to stop and regain lung control) We hiked through the hail, which eventually stopped, assuming it would blow over. By the time we were to the ridge it had begun to rain very hard and coverage was becoming scant. (Note: at this point the backpacker was kind enough to remind us that mountain lions enjoy hiding in the thick brush) Since it was raining pretty good and had not started showing signs of lightning we took a rest under a large pine tree and regained some energy. (Note: energy source of choice was sour patch kids) We noticed that even if the rain stopped where we were currently sitting, the clouds were still moving towards the canyon we would be hiking through. Then the inevitable happened; lightning. We knew we only had one option and that was to head back down the way we came. The thought of 2hrs of hard work going down the drain was heartbreaking but it was countered with the thought of being fried by a lightning bolt. We ran! (Note: as mentioned previously the coverage was scant and the only lightning safety any of us could remember was to be the shortest object around.) The biggest problem was the 3/4 mile of switch-backs in a field of flowers on the side of the mountain. I was in front and set the pace. In what seemed like no time with what seemed like no breathing difficulties we made it back down the mountain. (Note: it took us approximately 30 min to get down that mountain) After arriving safely at the bottom we took inventory of ourselves. We were soaked from head to toe and covered in an unusual amount of mud. (Note: mud was due to all the mud puddles we ran through and the several falls we took while running through them) Since we were planning on coming out way down the mountain we had to trek another 1.5 miles through the downpour to our camp site. We arrived to find all our chairs and wood wet, my knee bleeding a smidge and the backpackers arms breaking out in hives. (Note: we had not noticed the bleeding knee due to mud coverage and the hives were a surprise from a random plant) We ended up driving into town soaking wet and sore to get some Benadryl and dry wood. The rest was a bit of a blur. The backpacker was drugged on my command and shortly passed out. I then cleaned off the mud and stripped off my wet cloths so I could take a nap. For the next 2.5 hours the world could have ended and neither of us would have known. When I woke up I could barely move and that feeling stayed with all of us for several days. (Note: being that we were all too cold, drugged or tired none of us found it necessary to stretch after our marathon hike resulting in a severe stiffening of the muscles and joints) Even though it has been hard to walk, climb stairs and sit we feel that it was worth it for having survived, dum dum dum, the Hike of Death!
1 comment:
Melissa, I love your blog! I laughed so hard while reading about your Hike of Death. I am a teensy eensy bit jealous of all the fun you are having it looks like you are living it up and I am so happy for you! :)
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